


Pieces

by winter_storm



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: College AU, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Highschool AU, Human AU, Human Names Used, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, USUK - Freeform, various side pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3813805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_storm/pseuds/winter_storm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of chapters and prologues that start longer stories. They are all USUK. They are in no way connected to each other simply some fun fluff for my fellow USUK fans out there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Basics

The first thing I want to do is explain what this is exactly because otherwise it will not make much sense. I have just started branching into writing Hetalia fan fiction. The issue I am asking you to readers to help with is that I have a slew of multi chapter stories swirling around in my head and can’t seem to decide which t write first so I am posting the first chapter of a few ideas here to try and get some feed back on what people want to read/see most. I would appreciate comments telling me which story to expand to its full length. 

I am going to try to post up another idea every couple of days or so for a bout a week or two till I have most of my plot bunnies worked out so please come back and take a look at my other ideas and leave a comment on your favorites.

I will give a summary and rating at the beginning of every chapter so you are aware what the full story will hold in store. These stories have not been beta read so there are probably going to be some typos and mistakes. If anyone would be interested in in beta reading please let me know and if there are any glaring errors if you would leave a comment I will do my best to fix them.

Most of these will end up being rated fro a mature audience if they are expanded to a full story, but all of these chapters are pretty tame. The ratings at the beginning are for the chapter not the full story.>

Thank you in advance,  
winter_storm


	2. Curiosity Isn't Just For Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred never though of himself as a cat person but what kind of hero would he be if he left the poor animal outside in a rainstorm?  
> (Fantasy AU)  
> rated G

It was raining outside. This had been expected thought the weather forecast had said as much what the forecast had not mentioned was that rainstorm was a fucking understatement for the monsoon that met the twenty year old when he got out of class that day. 

“Thirty percent chance of rain my ass.” Alfred mumbled as he crouched under the already crowded overhang connected to the science building of his university. Now if it had just been five or so people under the overhang there wouldn’t have been any problem he would have been fine just standing there waiting and making small talk till there was a break in the weather but as five classes had gotten out at the same time there were more like forty people trying to share the sparse space under the small awning. 

Alfred looked at the downpour. Well it was just water it couldn’t be that bad and he was on his way home after all. At least it wasn’t like we would have to sit through a whole class period soaked to the bone after all. He would just get home and change out of his wet clothes. He could handle that.

His decision made Alfred found his cousin and best friend Mattie and told him farewell. The quiet boy nodded at his cousin and gave him a small wave goodbye. Mattie was not willing to leave the square of refuge the overhang provided since unlike Alfred he had 4 more classes to attend before his day was over. 

Alfred zipped up his windbreaker hoping the waterproofing of the jacket would provide some protection if only a little. He flipped up the collar and with one final deep breath he ran out from under the buildings protection. He had only been out in the rain for about 30 seconds when he realized that he really should have just waited it out after all he didn’t have anywhere else he had to be right now. It was too late to turn back at this point though. Once you were already soaked it didn’t matter if you got wetter anyway. 

He heard a few of his friends call to him and wave from their various refuges as he ran past. The loudest of them had been Gilbert the self professed Prussia who had even been able to drown out the pounding rain with his greeting to Al. 

Soon all the sounds of the bustling campus were behind him and the only sound was the slap slap slap of his water logged shoes hitting the pavement as his ran towards his apartment. It seemed the only person stupid enough to be running or out at all in this sort of weather was himself. Well at least he didn’t have to worry about running into other people if no one else was out and about. He didn’t want to knock down anyone because he didn’t want to raise his face to the rain. He loved running into people normally but a rainstorm was not the ideal time to meet new people, even for someone who was as much of a social butterfly as Alfred was. 

He did start to slow down, as he got closer to his apartment building. He was starting to get a little winded and the cold rain trickling under the collar of his jacket wasn’t helping any. He was completely soaked trough and shaking a little. Why couldn’t it be raining when it was warm outside? Or if it had to be cold why couldn’t it be cold enough to snow? Snow was fun and wet; rain was just wet.

As Alfred ducked under the awning of a small café down to block from his building to catch his breath before the final dash to the warm comfort of home he heard something. It wasn’t the crash of thunder or the plink of rain, or even the splash of a car going to fast through a puddle. It was much softer and much gentler than any of the sounds that should be heard during a storm. 

He couldn’t exactly tell you what made him do it but soon he was turning away from his building and darting down the alley on the side of the café instead looking for the source of the sound. It wasn’t as if he could get any wetter after all. What could a short detour do? There was nothing that a little longer in the rain could do he was probably already going to end up with a cold, shoes that would take a week to dry, and a set of cloths he may never wear again. The damage was done at this point besides how could he not investigate the sound.

All he could think as he stood over the box was that saying ‘curiosity killed the cat.’ He thought it was rather ironic since the sound had actually led him to exactly that, a cat. Down the alley had had found a small cat ducking under a cardboard box for refuge and balefully meowing for help. Now Alfred didn’t much like cats. He found then generally standoffish and haughty. He preferred a playful energetic puppy.

Despite his general dislike of cats he couldn’t just leave the animal. It was pouring outside and cats were notorious for their dislike of water. It took him only about half a minute to decide what to do. He crouched down and lifted the box off of the animal. A pair of slightly pitiful and pleading green eyes stared up at him from the fluffy face. The cat gave an inquisitive mrow that melted the college student’s heart. What kind of hero wouldn’t even save a cat? He held out his hand for the cat to sniff for approval before carefully lifting the soaked animal into his arms. 

Before Alfred knew what had happened he was at the door to his apartment building cat I tow. He looked between the small cat and the no pet’s allowed sigh through the window of the building. Well that wasn’t going to stop him. “Hang on little buddy.” He said to the cat as he carefully slipped the cat between his windbreaker and soaked tee shirt. He would have to smuggle the cat inside, but he refused to leave the cat out in the rain. He would figure out a long-term plan later when it wasn’t raining. 

The small furry animal, also soaked, curled up against Alfred and shivered slightly in the little ouch the windbreaker made to hold him. Despite being wet and cold the cat made no noise of sharp movements to alert anyone that he was there at all the Alfred’s relief. 

He had made it up the stairs to his third floor apartment door all he had to do was get inside and he was scot free no one would be the wiser. He was just breathing a sigh of relief when “Alfred, bonjour mon ami.” His head scrams ‘uh oh.’ 

Alfred was on pretty good terms with his neighbor Francis but still he wasn’t supposed to have a cat, any pet really inside the building. He sighed and turned with a false smile. “Hey Francis. I would love to talk but I would really like to get out of these wet clothes first.” He said with a vague gesture at his soaked jeans and a shake of his hair sending water droplets flying in all directions to make his point. 

Francis turned up his nose at the small spray from the American’s hair “Yes, yes, of course.” He said leaning in to kiss the younger man on each cheek in farewell. Unfortunately it was at this moment that his passenger made a hissing noise glaring up at the Frenchman. Alfred turned back slightly pink to be caught with the animal. 

Francis was taken aback looking confused till the cat peered out of the V that Alfred’s windbreaker made. “Please don’t tell anyone Francis but he was just sitting out there in the rain and I couldn’t leave him like that I mean look at that cute little face.” He said pouting down at the cat that sent a small glare at him this time. 

Francis chuckled. “But of course Alfred. I will keep your petit friend a secret. We will just say you owe me a favor oui?” He said with a toss of his shoulder length blonde hair. 

Alfred sighed but there was no other option really. “Sure a favor just don’t tell the building manager.” He said resigned as he got his keys out and unlocked his door. 

“Au revoir Alfred, and don’t worry I will not tell a soul just remember that you moi a favor.” Francis said as he walked down the stairs with a lewd wink. 

Alfred rolled his eyes a little, but he couldn’t worry about it just now. He closed his door and removed his temporary passenger setting him on the floor to explore temporary home. “Home sweet home little guy.” Alfred said as he stripped off his soaked jacket and shoes setting them by the door with his book bag. He hoped his textbooks weren’t ruined. 

Now in to comfort of his home he got a better look at the animal. It was a moderately sized cat really which mean it was most certainly a cat not a kitten. It was mainly a sort of off white color other than a patch covering one half of it’s face including it’s left ear and it’s tail which were a sort of toffee color. It had a black collar and a small nametag that read crumpet. Seemed a slightly silly name to Alfred, but he wouldn’t dispute it. He was a bit disappointed to see the collar since that meant that the cat was probably someone’s pet. It seemed odd after less than an hour, but Alfred kind of like the idea of having a pet even if it was a cat. “Well make yourself at home dude.” He said as he got a bowl of milk and set it down in front of the cat. “We’ll look for your owner tomorrow.” He said as he went to change cloths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is sort of inspired by Ladyhawk, which means if you have seen the movie from the 80’s you probably know where it is going. If you haven’t well it isn’t that hard to figure out, but there will be some twists if I continue. I personally really enjoy this idea, but I didn’t want to continue it if there wasn’t any interest so again let me know if I should expand this one.
> 
> This story got the most interest so I have decided to expand it into a full length story. If you enjoyed this you can find the rest to this story by searching Curiosity isn't Just For Cats or by looking at my other works by clicking on my pen name.


	3. Love Is Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> USUK  
> France sees it, Canada sees it, Italy sees it, Japan sees it, even Germany sees it so why can’t they?  
> (PG)

*SIGH*

Oh not again Canada thought. He had done nothing but that for three days. How could someone so annoyingly energetic and egotistical as America stare out a window for three days and do nothing but sigh. It was even worse then that time he had insisted that they go over Niagara Falls in barrels. He shuddered at the memory of that. It had been one of the worst visits he had ever had from his brother to date. 

*SIGH*

If America sighed one more time was likely to find himself on the first flight right back to New York, or Virginia or whatever house he felt like staying in right now. Mattie didn’t really care as long as it was out of his house. He couldn’t sit around and babysit his brother. He was his own country and he had work to do just like the rest of them. That was what America should be doing, but no he was just staring out the window that was all he had done for THREE DAYS! 

Matthew actually enjoyed his brother’s visits most of the time. This was different though something had happened and though Mathew couldn’t say what he was almost positive it had something to do with England. 

“Mattie I’m hungryyyyyy!” The only thing Alfred had done other than sigh was ask his hospital brother for food every hour or so. Up to this point Canada had been more than willing to oblige, but this was the end. He was tiered of his brother’s whining and he needed at least a few minutes without him there. The truth was he was starting to get worried for his brother. He had to call England that would snap him out of it. 

Mathew grabbed his brother’s bomber jacket and his keys from the hook by the door where they had sat unused since his arrival and threw them to his twin. “Go to McDonald’s if you are hungry Al you have already cleaned out my fridge and most of my pantry I don’t have any more food to give you.” The quieter country said. Al would have pouted and said he didn’t want to go if it hadn’t been for the look in Mathew’s violet eyes and his fisted hands firmly set on his hips. With a grumbled sound of agreement Al shrugged on his bomber jacket and dragged his feet out the door. 

As Mattie heard the car in his driveway rev into motion and move away from his home it was his turn to sigh. He let out a slow breath and dropped his hands from his hips. Now it was time to take action and get America out of his house. The first step was to call England if anyone could get through to a sullen lazy America it was England. 

Mathew took out his phone and looked up England’s number. He grabbed his landline and punched in the numbers letting his anger at America out on the buttons of his phone. He took a few deep breaths, as the phone rang not wanting to get angry at England for no reason. England wasn’t always very nice to me, but that was no reason not to be polite to him especially when I was asking for his help, besides England isn’t really nice to anyone.

“Bonjour this is the house of Arthur Kirkland, Francis Bonnefoy speaking” A thickly accented voice answered after the fourth ring. 

Of all the things that Canada might have expected this was not one of them. It took him a moment or two to recover from the shock. “F-France?” He stuttered out unsurely. 

“Oh mon petit Mathieu.” France cooed over the line. “How magnifique to hear from you. It is indeed fortunate that you should call Angleterre and get moi instead is it not?” France said with a toss of his head that Mathew could sense even without being able to see it. He did want to talk to France but not right now.

“No, not really very fortunate France. I need to speak to England it is about America he is driving me crazy and nothing I say has made any difference do you think England will talk . . . Wait a minute why are you at England’s house anyway?” It had just sunk in that if France had picked up the phone he must be at England’s house and that didn’t bode well for either of them. The two nations could barely be civil during world meeting spending that much time alone together in the same house could not end well.

“Ah I was wondering when we would get to that.” Francis said a bit bemused that it had taken the shy nation so long to bring it up. “Well it seems that Angleterre has been feeling a little under the weather for a few days so I am looking after him. He has actually been most kind he hasn’t snapped at me once he just stares at the rain and sighs.” France said looking over at the sullen and grumpy nation sitting in the window seat idly stirring a, long cold, cup of tea. 

This gave Mathew pause. That was exactly what Al was doing it just wasn’t raining in Canada. “When you say a few days do you mean three?” Mathew asked his mentor. He was staring to get an idea of what might be wrong with Al and talking to England would either make it much better or much worse, but they weren’t going to talk to each other on their own.

“Oui Mathieu indeed it has been three days. I have been here for three days at least. I came to see how young England’s meeting with Amerique had gone and found him desolate. I can only assume that they have had a small lover’s spat no?” France said flippantly. It was the clear explanation. He was sure sooner or later the two would be right back to madly in love even if they tried to convince everyone else that they didn’t feel anything other than dislike and annoyance towards each other. As the country of love it was perfectly clear to France that they two were a perfect pair.

Canada had to take a few deep breaths. He didn’t want to be the one to tell France he was wrong, but . . . well he was wrong. “France, you do know that they aren’t a couple right?” Mathew asked already sure of the answer but still flinching at the shocked in take of breath that come from the phone in his hand. 

“Well now I know why Angleterre has been so glum we must come up with a magnifique plan to get these two together Mathieu.” France exclaimed glad that England was far too disinterested to notice anything he said.

“Francis I don’t think it is a good idea to interfere in Al and Arthur’s love life. It will all work itself out in the end don’t you think?” Mathew asked not wanting to risk pissing off his brother or his former caretaker. He had to admit thought it they did finally admit to the way they felt it would make things easier. He also had to admit that once France got an idea in his head there was no way to stop him so it was better to just help him than it was to try and stop him. 

“Oh come now Mathieu it will be much more fun this way no?” Francis said. He told the hesitant nation to meet him at a café the fallowing day, as France did have to get back home anyway and then promptly hung up before the younger could make any more protests against the idea. 

Canada found himself looking at his phone for another three minutes until his twin came back into the house. He had an entire sack full of hamburgers the largest coke that Canada had ever seen and more French fries than a single person should ever eat. He flopped on the couch and stared out the window consuming the food steadily until . . .

*SIGH*

Canada really hoped that France had a plan, and that it worked because no matter what else he might know he sure knew that he couldn’t take much more of his brother. “You better be right Francis.” Mattie said under his breath as he went to make travel arrangements to meet up with his father figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told mainly from France and Canada’s perspective this is how the two of them and the rest of the nations help America and England see what only the two of them are still blind too. As before let me know it you would like to see what happens after this.  
> winter_storm


	4. Round And Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred is hopelessly in love with a boy he can’t seem to forget no matter how long it’s been. What happens when they meet again as adults though?  
> (Human AU)  
> PG-13

He was mesmerizing up there. The hot lights shone on his skin. His blonde hair tipped in bright green to mimic his eyes, those eyes that seemed to pierce through me. He was perfection and to my dismay it seemed everyone knew it, including him.

Tonight was his night and I was happy for him. He deserved all that he got. He put up an air as if he didn’t care, but I knew better he worked hard for everything he had. I think that attracted me more than the tight cloths, the lean muscles, and the mysterious danger. I admired him for what was under Iggy the punk rock sex god; the one I admired was Arthur Kirkland. 

I had admired him since we met as children. He had always been so determined back then. He was always tough in one way or another. As a 5 year old I idolized him. How could I not when he came to my defense? Back then he was everything I wanted to be, a hero, my hero. He had returned to England with his family 4 years later. I never imagined I would look up on my first day of high school and see those green eyes staring back at me. 

That had been about three months ago now. He was vastly different from the 11 year old remembered, but that had been 6 year ago. It would have been odd for him to have not changed after 6 years. This was not the sort of change I had expected though. I hadn’t expected to see him at all of course, but if I had I would have expected some uptight, old fashioned, sweater-vest wearing, student council president more concerned with work and grades than the people he went to school with. What stared at me from down the hall on my first day at high school was almost the exact opposite, well except for the grades. I learned quickly that he actually got very high marks in everything but math and science; my two best subjects. 

I learned a lot about the illustrious Iggy in my first few weeks. He had gone from the kid no one wanted to talk to, to the teenager people couldn’t stop talking about. I drank up all the information like a sponge. I knew Arthur Kirkland now I wanted to know Iggy. He was in a punk rock band with Francis Bonnefoy, Gilbert Beildschmidt, Elizaveta Héderváry, and Antonio Carriedo. His best friend outside of the band is Kiku Honda, a very polite and reserved transfer student from Japan. I don’t really understand why they are friends, but you could have said the same thing about the two of us when we were younger. I would have pictured them being friends back in grammar school, but it just seemed a bit off for the punk rocker to be so close to someone so . . . reserved. When it came to his band-mates however it was a completely different story. It seemed as if Iggy was the most reserved out of them. They seemed to fight as much as they did anything else, but it worked for them. They were always playing at clubs or parties and went through high school breaking bones and breaking hearts, at least everyone said so. 

I couldn’t help but wonder if underneath it all he was still Arthur Kirkland? I didn’t know and being two years ahead of me not to mention in mostly advanced classes I never really got the opportunity to find out if he was the boy I had idolized all those years ago. Fitting the two ideas of him together in my mind would often give me a headache, but something in those eyes those haunting green eyes said he was still the boy I knew growing up. I hoped so, but I hadn’t found the courage to approach him yet. He was always surrounded by people anyway he probably didn’t even remember me. 

I knew I would never have a chance. I would never be cool enough, smart enough, interesting enough, or handsome enough for him. This actually worked to my benefit though it gave me something to shoot for and that was enough for now. In two years he would graduate and go off to college. I would be finishing up my sophomore year. I vowed that before he left I would make contact. I was determined to rekindle my friendship with Arthur Kirkland if he wanted to or not.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared into green eyes above me. He wanted me. I couldn’t believe it he was actually mine. He leaned down for a kiss a soft brushing of lips against my heated skin. Just a hairs breathe away and . . . 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

That damn alarm clock should be murdered. I always woke me up before we kissed. It had been almost ten years and I still dreamed about those eyes more often than not. Arthur Kirkland had taken root in my heart and I had missed my chance to tell him. My opportunity had come and gone. How could I have been so stupid? Two whole years and we had only talked a few times. We had talked actually talked 10 times to be exact and it had always been around other people. Before I knew it he was gone to who knows where and I knew I would never see him again. It was like the worst case déjà vu ever because I had felt the exact same when he left the first time, only this was so much worse because instead of being friends I had fallen in love with him this time around. 

How pitiful is that? I fell in love with someone I barely ever talked to. I don’t even know if I was in love with Iggy or Arthur, but it didn’t really matter together they captured me, and my dreams delighted in reminding me that they were never going to let me go. 

“Alfred F. Jones if you don’t get out of bed right now I’m gonna eat your half of the pancakes!” Leave it to Mattie to get me moving in the morning. I could always count on my twin brother. We had moved in together after spend the first year of college with roommates we couldn’t stand. We had been living together ever since. We liked each other and neither of us really had enough money to afford a place on our own so this fixed both problems. It was a pretty sweet deal. Mattie did the cooking I did the cleaning and we split all the other little tasks.  
I was down stairs dressed for the day in ten minutes. “Hey Mattie” I said as I sat down at the table where my twin slid six big fluffy pancakes onto my plate. They smelled great like always. Mattie was the BEST cook. I dug in vigorously as my brother shook his hair in despair. 

“At least chew them before you swallow Alfred.” Mathew said softly. He was soft spoken and often overlooked in favor of his more boisterous brother, but he was really rather content and one of the sweetest people in the world. When it came down to it Mathew and Alfred were as close as brothers could get. They shared everything, which is how without more than a word Mathew could tell from the way he ate without talking that Alfred had dreamed of Arthur again. Mathew was the only person that Alfred had ever told about his love for the older boy in high school. Mathew sighed. “You need to move on Al he could be anywhere by now.” Mathew sat down with his own stack of pancakes and a large cup of coffee. 

Well I wasn’t going to sit and listen to this again I was out of here. “Yeah, yeah I know. Thanks for breakfast Mattie gotta go.” I slipped on my shoes and in the hallways before grabbing my bomber jacket and car keys. I flew down the three flights of stairs that led to our apartment needing to get rid of some excess energy. I would be early for work, but I really didn’t want to listen to my brother tell me again how I was never going to see the love of my life again. Didn’t he think I knew that?

I worked at company that dealt mainly with security and publicity for new and upcoming people. I dealt more with the security and financial aspects it played to my strengths in math and my love of tech after all how else could I get to play with all those spyware like gizmos? I liked my job, but it got old pretty quick. It was lot of paper work and formalities most of the time. It paid well enough though and the hours were flexible which was nice. However with nothing to do other than spin in my desk chair and think about my dream this morning arriving early was not pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story would continue with Arthur’s point of view covering the same span of time and then continue from there with flashbacks to all of their previous interactions. It would cover both their past and present and how they now move forward, as well as what happens when they DO meet again.
> 
> This would probably end up with a mature rating if I continue it.


	5. Awesome pen pals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (human AU)  
> Alfred gets so excited when he is ordering food he accidently keeps typing in Arthur’s email instead of his own. After this had happened several times Arthur looks up the annoying America online and confronts him about the issue.  
> (USUK PG-13)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this a day or two ago but had trouble getting it straight in my head sorry guys.

This had happened too many times and Arthur was sick of it. He didn’t care if it was a mistake there was no reason for it to happen so many times. He had finally found the boy’s contact information and he was going to set this straight. He had no interest in having his email more clogged than it was with everything else. He had to actually be able to find and reply to the important things after all. This had to end. To his dismay this turned into a beginning instead of an end.

 

To: A-loves-US@gmail.com (Alfred Jones)  
From: A-loves-UK@gmail.com (Arthur Kirkland)  
Subject: A complaint!

Dear Alfred Jones,   
You do not know me, but you have repeatedly mistyped your email address when you are ordering food. Because of you inability to proof read your food orders my inbox has now been flooded with everything from pizza advertisements to videos of a dancing cactus urging me to try the a new Mexican restaurant. I do not know why you insist on ordering food from so many different restaurants as frequently as you do, but in the future please be sure to proof read your orders so that I do not get any more emails about food I have no intention of eating.   
Irritated,  
Arthur Kirkland

 

To: A-loves-UK@gmail.com (Arthur Kirkland)   
From: A-loves-US@gmail.com (Alfred Jones)  
Subject: RE: A complaint!

Artie,  
Sorry about that dude. I was wondering why I never got any of that email information that I asked for. You don’t have to be so grumpy about it though besides why would you not want to eat pizza? Pizza is awesome and you total have to link me to the restaurant that promotes with a dancing cactus dude that is awesome. I’ll try and be more conscious of my order from now on though.   
The Hero,  
Alfred F. Jones

P.S. Can we email again?

 

To: A-loves-US@gmail.com (Alfred Jones)  
From: A-loves-UK@gmail.com (Arthur Kirkland)  
Subject: NO!

Dear Alfred Jones,  
Under no circumstances may you ever refer to me as Artie. My name is Arthur and you will refer to me as Arthur if you insist on contacting me at all. I also will be only too happy to NEVER hear from you again unless you continue to mistype your bloody email address. I have nothing against pizza just because I do not want to get three emails about it everyday. I would appreciate you not making assumptions about me from ONE email. You know nothing about me and I would like fro it to stay that way!   
Please never write me again,  
Arthur Kirkland.

P.S. Here is the link you wanted. www.senoritasandsumbreros.com

 

To: A-loves-UK@gmail.com (Arthur Kirkland)   
From: A-loves-US@gmail.com (Alfred Jones)  
Subject: RE: NO!

Iggy,  
Why can’t we keep talking we could totally be like awesome pen pals. I’ve always wanted a pen pal. We could share all kinds of information and really get to know each other like are you from the UK is that why your email says that you love it? That it so cool not as cool as America but it is still pretty cool. See we are bonding already this will be great. We HAVE to keep talking. 

Thanks for the link dude, that dancing cactus was hilarious how did you not appreciate that? Well you obviously don’t have as refined a taste as me if you don’t like pizza. It’s ok I’m sure you like all sorts of cool stuff like super heroes and video games so it’s ok if you don’t like pizza.  
Your awesome pen pal,  
Alfred

 

To: A-loves-US@gmail.com (Alfred Jones)  
From: A-loves-UK@gmail.com (Arthur Kirkland)  
Subject: Why?

Dear Alfred,  
Just because I did not want you to call me Artie does not give you free reign to choose any nickname with no regard for how well it might fit the person or their real name. Why you would go from Artie to Iggy is beyond any sane persons comprehension. To add to that I have no desire to be your pen pal for several reasons your disregard for proper spelling and grammar being key among them. I do not have time to discuss it any further with you, but if you require it I will be more than happy to send you a full list of all the faults I find in your personality in alphabetical order and rated on a scale of one to ten according to how repellant I find them. If this is not enough to deter any further communications I will tell you that the very fact you want to be pen pals is a ten on the scale. 

I do like pizza as I have stated before I just don’t eat it all the time or need promotional email about it. As for super heroes and video games how old are you 10? Like all truly cultured people I read. I also enjoy cooking and needlepoint.   
Uninterested,  
Arthur Kirkland.

 

To: A-loves-UK@gmail.com (Arthur Kirkland)   
From: A-loves-US@gmail.com (Alfred Jones)  
Subject: Because.

Aaaaaaartieeeeeee,  
Why won’t you be my friend? It would be so coo to be able to tell people I have a friend who lives in the UK. What part of it do you live in anyway? It’s England isn’t it? I bet it’s England. You write like a stuffy English guy. It’s Ok Artie I like you even if you are a stuffy old man. How old are you anyway? I’m 23 btw not ten. Lots of people my age like video games and super heroes though. From your hobbies you’ve gotta be like 100. I mean who still does something like needlepoint? Coking is cool though. Do you cook burgers? They are the absolute best food ever even better than pizza. 

I think you secretly want to be my pen pal. If I bother you as much as you pretend I do you would just block my email or stop replying or something. The very fact that you keep replying must me that you want to talk to me you are just too stubborn to admit it. I just had a kick-ass idea. We could exchange screen names and talk in real time. Doesn’t that sound great?  
Hope to hear from you soon Artie,  
Al

 

To: A-loves-US@gmail.com (Alfred Jones)  
From: A-loves-UK@gmail.com (Arthur Kirkland)  
Subject: RE: Because.

Dear Alfred,  
I do believe I asked you not to call me Artie before. It is however a vast improvement over calling me Iggy so I will let it go this once. You have again made a wrong assumption. I no longer live in the UK I actually reside in New York at for the time being. I used to live in London though and yes you were right that is England, but that doesn’t mean you have to rub it in. For you information I am not 100 I am only two bloody years older than you, you wanker. That is 25 (since I’m almost sure you can’t count.) I will not comment on your apparent love of burgers however I usually find myself cooking scones and other traditionally English foods as I find it the only thing worth the effort and it is impossible to find a decent English meal here. 

I really should block you but you seem like a rather tech savvy person (even if you can’t use proper English grammar) and would find some other way to contact me. Your idea is idiotic and I can think of no reason why I would want to spend my time online talking to annoying America ass.  
Your reluctant friend,  
Arthur.

P.S. Your spelling and grammar get increasingly worse with every email.

 

Alfred did a little jig in his seat as he read the most recent email from Artie. He would keep calling him that if only to make sure the man kept writing back. He was sure that Arthur would reply if for no other reason than to tell him not to call him Artie again. He hadn’t gotten the man’s screen name but he was sure he would sooner or later after all what had started as email tag to tell him off for mistyping his email address was now a friendship no matter how reluctant. He would ware Arthur down after all he had nothing but time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this actually came from a friend of mine who actually had this happen once. I heard it and thought it would be a perfect way for Arthur and Alfred to meet so I borrowed the idea and took it one step farther. This will fallow them throughout their progression of friendship to more. It will progress from emails, to IM, to phone calls, to video chats, and finally meeting face to face. If I continue this one the rating will probably end up being higher, but right now the rating is because Arthur curses a lot when he is angry and it will stay there for most of the story.
> 
> I don't know if these email addresses actually existed I just needed two that were similar enough that a mistake could happen. I also don't know of any Mexican restaurant that has a dancing cactus used for promotion, but it was a funny idea so the web address for that is also completely fictional.


	6. What Does Sexuality Have To Do With It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (High school AU)  
> (PG-13)  
> They have been friends for as long as either of them can remember, but growing up is hard enough without questions of sexuality coming into it. They will always be friends, but will their relationship change when questions as asked?

They had been best friends forever. No one could have said when they started, but that was just the way it was between Arthur and Alfred. It was as if they were always meant to be together. They were very different, but they fit so well together no one questioned them. They shared everything and it came to them as naturally as breathing or sleeping there was no awkwardness no shyness nothing that would keep them from each other. They were two peas in a very odd pod. 

As they grew up the things that would usually make friends grow apart only brought these two closer together. It should have driven them apart as Alfred got involved in sports and Arthur joined student council, but to everyone’s astonishment it meant that they spent even more of their free time together. If anyone asked Arthur he would explain that since there was less free time to be had they had better make the most of it. Alfred would just laugh it off and say dude Iggy is my best friend why wouldn’t I want to spend time with him.

It wasn’t long before people started teasing the two about being boyfriends, but it never bothered them. Alfred’s tendency to be over affectionate when he got excited didn’t help to deter the rumors of the friends being more than that. The rumors did stop however when they were thirteen, well some of them did.

Alfred got his first girlfriend when he was thirteen. This was yet another reason why the two boys might be pulled apart actually gave them more of a reason to be together. Most people think that girls are gossips, and that isn’t wrong what they don’t know it that teenage boys like talking about teenage girls just as much as teenage girls like talking about teenage boys. At first it was Alfred talking to Arthur about his girlfriend, but soon Arthur had a girlfriend of his own and it was all double dates. Every girl soon learned that the boys were a package deal, which caused some rather erotic fantasies for the female population.

The boys would still spend all the time they had together though. They would spend all night on the phone talking about girls and classes and sports. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have other friends because they were both popular in their own way. Alfred had his friends on the football and basket ball team; Gilbert, Antonio, Mathias, and of course his cousin Mathew. Arthur had his friends as well most of which were also on the student council like Francis, Ludwig, Kiku and to his discomfort Ivan. However it was like all their other friends were just a substitute for when they couldn’t be together. 

As time went on they both went through more girls than they wanted to count, but it was all in good graces with no harm meant. Neither of them had had a lasting relationship though. In their sophomore year of high school Arthur had come out that he was bi. His closest friends weren’t very surprised except for Alfred. His best friend had just assumed that Arthur was straight. To Arthur’s relief the talk American was very supportive about it. In fact almost all of his friends were. His brother Scott was a little bit of a dick about the whole thing but he had expected that, and his parents were understanding so he could handle Scott. 

It happened rather unexpectedly one night while the boys were getting ready for bed at Alfred’s house after going to a football (or as Alfred insisted soccer) game. Alfred was in his bed turned on his side to look at his friend. Arthur was staring at the ceiling as he tried to get comfortable in the sleeping bag they had set up on the floor for him. It wasn’t too bad but it had gotten kind of childish. Surely there was some better way to spend the night at each other’s house now that they were sixteen. 

“How did you know Artie?” The Brit had no idea what his friend was talking about. They had been talking about the history test earlier maybe that is what he meant. “If you weren’t such a git waiting till the night before to study you would know the answers to all the test questions too Al.” He said rolling onto his side away from his friend. What had made the American ask or even think of that right now? He really had a problem with staying on topic sometimes. Of course there hadn’t really been a topic since they weren’t really talking before. 

Alfred let out a laugh. It took him a minute to stop laughing. He felt a little bad about laughing especially when he saw his smaller friends shoulders tighten in his sleeping bag. “I’m sorry Artie it is just that isn’t what I meant at all. I just thought it was funny that you would bring up something like school right now when I’m trying to be all serious and shit.” He said with a fond smile as he flopped onto his back to look at the ceiling. He took a deep breath ready to try again. “I meant how did you know you were bi?” He asked resolutely not looking at his roommate for the night.

Despite Arthur’s resolve to give his friend the silent treatment till he fell asleep he couldn’t ignore a question like that. He turned so he was looking at Alfred now. He wanted to answer, but he wasn’t sure how he could. If he was truthful he wasn’t even sure was the right term for what he was. If he really explained it he would have to say that he wasn’t exactly bi as much as he was pansexual. He just told people he was bi because it was easier to explain, but he had done a lot of research when he discovered that a person’s sex had no effect on his attraction to that person. He might as well try to explain it though after all it was Al asking. If it was anyone else he would lie, but not to Al. “I’m not bisexual Alfred.” He said as he flipped onto his own back so the American wouldn’t see his reddening face just in case he decided to look at him again.

Alfred tried to figure this out. If Arthur wasn’t bisexual what was he? Was he just curious? Was he gay? Did it really matter? Al was a bit horrified to realize that the answer to these questions meant a lot more to him than it probably should. “If you aren’t bisexual why did you tell everyone you were? I mean I didn’t have a problem with it most of us didn’t, but you still got some flack from the more narrow-minded kids. Why deal with all the shit if you aren’t actually bi?” He asked. He could think of a few reasons why he might lie about his sexuality, but none of them applied to Arthur. He had actually thought about telling people he was bi so they wouldn’t target Arthur so much but as the first openly bi kid in their school it wasn’t like Arthur did it tot try and help a classmate. Arthur wasn’t really the hero type anyway he wouldn’t lie about his sexuality just to make people stop picking on someone else he would just curse them in that cute British slang of his and then beat the crap out of them. It always surprised Alfred when his friend gave a bully a trashing since he seemed so mild most of the time. 

Arthur took a deep breath. He was glad to see that his friend hadn’t turned to look at him. He didn’t really want to explain this with those blue eyes trained on him. Alfred’s eye had a way of making him lose track of what he was saying when they caught his. “I told people I was bi because everyone knows what bisexual means most people don’t exactly know what pansexual means.” He said it a bit ruefully. He saw the twitch of movement in his peripheral vision that meant Alfred also didn’t know what it meant, but he had expected that. “Pansexual people are usually seen as a subset of bi. It means that we don’t even really observe sexuality when we choose a partner. It doesn’t matter one way or the other. For example I am sexual attracted to you but it has nothing to do with the fact that you are a guy. I don’t see men and women simply people.” He turned on his side facing away from Alfred. “So now you know what pansexual means Alfred.” He laughed softly. “I thought I was done giving you vocabulary lessons after you threw lit book at my head in year 8.” He let out another rueful chuckle at the movement that meant Al didn’t understand. “7th grade Al.” He clarified. “Now go to sleep I’m tiered.” He said closing his eyes.

“Artie?” The American said a whole world of questions in that one word.

Arthur took a deep breath. “Don’t worry Al I’d never act on it.” He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that in his explanation he had admitted that he was sexually attracted to his long time friend. It had just somehow made the explanation easier. He had always meant to tell him anyway after all so what did it matter how he did it. He just hoped that it wouldn’t make things weird.

“Good night Artie.” Alfred said as he turned on his side away from his friend trying to figure out exactly what his feeling were, after all that was why he had asked in the first place and he never did get his answer. Did Arthur really have to make things so much more complicated all of a sudden?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would end up being a mature or explicit fix I'm not sure which yet. It would continue with both of the boys trying to figure out what they really want and if it is worth their years of friendship to even try for something more intimate.


	7. What Just Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England tells America he loves him and America says it back . . . a week later. Now because of his delay America has to PROVE his love not just declare it.  
> PG USUK

*SLAP*

*SLAM*

What the hell just happened? Was all America could think.

If anyone had been around to see the quickly reddening hand print on the face of Alfred F. Jones they could tell him exactly what happened. To his relief there had been no one there to see the elder island nation slap him across the face. It would have been very embarrassing to have the most powerful country in the world seen be savagely slapped by the former super power.

America was no expert but he was pretty sure that a slap to the face was not a normal response to the words I love you. So why had England slapped him? It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t because England didn’t love him back he knew England loved him after all England said it first. If they loved each other why was he now standing outside of England’s door in the pouring rain with a red handprint on his face? 

America, at a loss for anything else do, decided to go home and think about the whole encounter and everything that had led up to it in the first place. He had thought about breaking down England’s door, but no matter how tempting that was he knew it would in no way improve the island nation’s mood when it came to where he was concerned. He had done it before of course on several occasions. For such a private man England had a very vulnerable door really. This was not the right time to invade his privacy though if he wanted to see America he wouldn’t have slammed the door in his face to begin with.

~~~~~~~~~~

America was soon back in his New England town house. He didn’t use this house much really preferring to have more open space, but this was a good place to hold up for a while. The place was a modest brownstone no different from the ones around it. It consisted of three bedrooms, two bathrooms, an office, a kitchen, and a den. America was currently in the den eating ice cream and spacing out to whatever movie happened to be playing on his TV. He couldn’t tell you the name of the movie if his life depended on it since his mind was completely consumed by thoughts of England. 

It just didn’t make any sense. He didn’t understand. England had asked him back to his house to maybe watch a movie and just relax after a meeting. It seemed perfectly normal they had spent a lot of time repairing their relationship ever since WWII. After about half of the most recent James Bond movie, two cups of tea and a lot of fidgeting England got down to the reason he had actually asked if America wanted to come over. He paused the movie and looked at his once colony now friend. He had spent enough time trying to change how he felt about the lad, but it hadn’t helped. Since he couldn’t change it he felt he should at least let the idiot know. That was when he had said it. It was simple really just three small words. I love you. It should have been harmless. It would have been harmless if America hadn’t bolted.

The super power for the first time agreed with England he was an idiot. He just hadn’t known what to do. He had avoided England for a week to figure it out. He didn’t know if he loved England. He didn’t know if he wanted their relationship to change he wasn’t sure if he could handle that. He and England had . . . something, but it had always been indefinable. Now it seemed as if England wanted to define it. Was it so awful that Alfred didn’t want to have their relationship stuffed into some kind of box? No it was perfectly reasonable, but he probably should have explained to England why he left, but he had been too flummoxed to do much of anything. 

He had finally decided how he felt that is why he had gone to England. He had banged on his door in the fucking rain for Christ’s sake. He had confessed that it was love he felt for the old man. He loved him always had he just hadn’t know that’s what it was. He was going to say all thins and apologize for running off and avoiding him, but he hadn’t gotten past those three fateful words before he had been silenced by a slap and before he regained his composure the door was shut on anything else he might say.

America was still sitting on his couch puzzling it out when his brother found him several hours later. He was complete spaced out, his TV showing the climax of The Dark Knight, and a half eaten carton of ice cream melting in his motionless hands. The mild mannered nation sighed taking the ice cream from his brother and replacing it back in the freezer after finding the lid to the carton carelessly discarded on the kitchen counter. He shook his head as he went back into the den and turned off the television covering America with a blanket. His brother would tell him about it when he was ready, but right now he needed to rest so Mattie would let him.

~~~~~~~~~~

England hadn’t moved since he slammed the door in America’s face except to turn around and slide down the polished wood. He now sat his knees drawn up to his chest eyes blurry with the remainder of tears he couldn’t remember crying. He was all right if America didn’t feel the same way about him, but to mock him like this was just cruel. He had never thought that America was cruel. He knew the boy could be thoughtless sometimes even idiotic, but this was the first time he had thought him cruel. He was done wasting tears on America though. He promised from this moment on he would not be drawn in by those blue eyes and golden hair. He would not let himself fall again. He would stop being in love with America if he had to die to do it. 

He would stop tomorrow right now he just wanted one last cry over the idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is a little shorter than the other stories, but I didn't want to get really into the story with this one not yet at least. 
> 
> I also want to say I'm sorry I haven't actually posted anything recently but my sister was getting married so everything else sort of fell by the wayside for like a month. 
> 
> As always thanks in advance fro any and all feedback.


	8. Hangmand and Other Word Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a human/college/coffee shop AU where two teenagers have to figure out how to deal with each other when they end up with sumer jobs in the same coffee shop. Will their tense growing friendship end up as more than just a way to survive the summer?  
> USUK  
> PG-13

That stupid smiling face with those too blue eyes. He had spent the last four years with the idiot. This was his summer job he was supposed to be free of him now, but no it seemed that Arthur Kirkland’s fate was to be forever saddled with Alfred F. Jones. Alfred would say F stood for freedom but Arthur was pretty sure it stood for fucking, after all how else could he be so fucking annoying? At least it was only three days a week that had to be better than the five days a week he had to spend with him at school. This couldn’t possibly be worse than spending five days in school with the jerk could it? Could it?

This was definitely worse than school. At school he could pretty much avoid that idiot. They only had two classes together last year so it wasn’t that hard to just ignore him the rest of the time, but here they were ALWAYS together. Not only were they together all the time it was a pretty small place. On the campus of a pretty expansive high school it was easy to find out which paths to take to avoid Alfred, but in this tiny coffee shop there just wasn’t enough space to avoid him.

It had only been one week and Arthur was already loosing it. He could just quit right? I mean it wasn’t like . . . everyone had just gotten out of school and taken all the jobs. That was exactly what it was like actually. He would never find another place hiring at this point. Besides he had planned all his summer activities around the fact that he was working on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at the place. He would have to change everything else if he quit now. He could do this for three months. After the summer he would go off to Oxford and Alfred would do whatever it was he planned to do and that would be it they would never have to see each other again. 

On Friday of their second week Arthur had his fourth fight with the oven. That was the end of his allowance to use the oven. It had been going alright till then. Arthur would stay in the back preparing things and Alfred would be out front charming the costumers. It was a very good system. He didn’t have to make small talk with strangers or see too much of Alfred. Now it seemed he would have to at least make small talk with strangers though since he wasn’t allowed to operate the oven. He didn’t see what the big deal was after all who didn’t like their scones a little burnt on the edges? Well it wasn’t like Americans new what good food was anyway. 

“Artie!” It seemed unlike Arthur who had been utterly content to stay in the back and avoid the American Alfred refused to do so when he was manning the oven. The fact that he walked around all over the place when things were cooking made it all the more infuriating that nothing ever burned when Alfred was in charge of the oven. Arthur refused to let his annoyance at that show. He tried to smile at the costumer as he exchanged the double mocha whatever for her money. How people drank those sugar bombs they called coffee was beyond him. How people drank coffee at all baffled him though. Of course at least they also served tea at this particular coffee shop so it wasn’t a complete waste.

“For the millionth time Alfred my name is Arthur, not Art, not Iggy, not Artie or any other mangled nickname you can come up with, Arthur.” He said through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath, just three months only three months. It had become a mantra he used not to bite the American’s head off. He had already started to count the days left of summer. “What do you want Alfred.” He said turning with a too bright smile on his face. It turned out looking more frightening than friendly, but it was the best Arthur could manage in his current state of rage.

Alfred paused for a minute almost put off by the face, but not quite. It only gave him a moment of pause before he soldiered on as if nothing had happened. “Why do you work at a coffee shop?” He said. He said I in a way that made it sound like a perfectly reasonable question that anyone would ask. The problem with that was that it was a stupid question in Arthur’s opinion. 

Arthur just glared at the American. What kind of a dumb question was that? Why did it even matter to Alfred it wasn’t like they were friends. “Why do you care? I needed a summer job so here I am. I’m here for the exact same reason you are because I need money before I start college and they were hiring.” Arthur spit out the words his face getting redder as his anger rose. Did Alfred have to be so bothersome ALL the time couldn’t he just shut up.

“Oh Artie you are so funny. I mean why do you work at a coffee shop when you only every drink tea duh.” He said laughing. The intense color of Arthur’s face and the fire in his green eyes not doing anything to warn he teen on the impending doom. It was a good thing there were no costumers at the moment as Arthur’s death glare would have made anyone other than Alfred run for the hills. It would be very bad for business to scare away all their costumers after all and he did actually need this job if he was moving back to England at the end of summer. Moving was not cheap and every cent helped. 

Arthur ground his teeth together so as to not yell but the venom was clear in his voice. “If you call me Artie or ANYTHING other than Arthur one more time Alfred I will surgical remove your bollocks from the rest of your person with a rusty kitchen knife.” He swallowed his anger at the nickname and turned away from the boy to wipe down the counter as he answered assuming it would be more bearable if he were at least doing something. “I’m working here because the pay isn’t bad and I need the money. Though this is primarily a coffee shop they make a decent cuppa and don’t discourage drinking tea while at work. If I had known I would be here with you I would have chosen another job though.” Arthur said glumly.

Alfred’s smile faltered. “Hey don’t be that way dude I think this is awesome. I mean we never hang out. How cool is it that now we have all this free time together to get to know each other away from school right?” He said flashing a grin as if that would change Arthur’s mind. It did not change his mind of course, but at least the fool hadn’t made the mistake of calling him Artie again. Dude was not a vast improvement of course. Alfred just smiled for a minute but he was rather bored. When there weren’t any costumers there wasn’t much to do really. “Can I ask why you are so desperate for the money? I mean I saw the flyers you put up at the end of the school year aren’t you also tutoring people in history and English over the summer?” He asked kicking the counter for lack of anything else to do.

Arthur sighed. He really shouldn’t have been surprised that Alfred had no idea he was moving back to England it wasn’t something he had really broadcast. He tried to never talk to the American in the first place so telling him something he didn’t tell most people had never even come up as a possibility. What could it hurt though it wasn’t like it was some big secret or anything it was just that no one had really bothered to ask. Kiku had asked and Francis had basically strangled it out of him, but besides that it just didn’t seem terribly important that people know what his plan was after graduation. “I’m moving back to England at the end of the summer. I was accepted at Oxford. I don’t plan on every returning to the states since my family all live in England anyway so I have to save enough money to transfer not only myself but all of my stuff as well. Anything that doesn’t make the trip will go to charity of the trash. Shipping charges are high as are university costs. My parents will only help me to a point and they don’t exactly approve of my choice of profession so I’m doing this mainly on my own.” He didn’t know why he went into so much detail. All he had to say was that moving was expensive and leave it at that, but he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t nice to tell someone else about what was going on. He would rather it not be Alfred, but it had to be someone. 

Alfred didn’t know what to say really. He was just doing this for some extra pocket money. He even kind of liked the job he was good at customer service. It seemed like all of his reasons were kind of silly by comparison though. His parents were more than willing to help with college costs and most of his stuff would stay at the house he had grown up in, at least the stuff he didn’t actually need for college. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and started to mark it. “Hey Arthur pick a letter.” He said after a minute.

“R” Arthur said with out thinking about it. “Wait what?” He said turning back around to face the American. He looked down at the counter to see a group of dash marks and a little box with one long line and two shorter ones connected to a crude depiction of a noose. Under the dashes was the word film to give a category for the game. The dashes which had been previously empty now read as: _r_ _ _ _ _r_ _r_: R_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _. Arthur looked at what he thought was and absurd number of blank spaces with nothing more than three Rs and a colleen to go off of. Knowing the idiot’s tastes it probably wasn’t even a movie he had seen. “We aren’t actually going to play hangman are we?” He asked his gave flicking from the paper to the American wielding the blue pen he had used to draw up the game. 

Alfred’s grin just spread to a huge smile. On other people a smile that wide would have made them look like the joker on Alfred it just made Arthur think he was a model in a toothpaste add. “Well what do you want to do this place is totally empty.” He said twirling the pen with a surprising amount of dexterity for someone usually a bit on the clumsy side. “Next letter dude.” Alfred said sure that he had succeeded in breaking the tension that had fallowed to Brit’s earlier confession of his future intention. Arthur didn’t notice how well it had diffused the tension all he was thinking about was how long this summer was going to be if he spent three days of every week playing hangman with Alfred F. Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am no sure how this one would continue from here, but I have the feeling that it would sort of write itself. That is how the first chapter happened. It is a highly character driven story so it shouldn't be to difficult to just let it go where it wants to. Any ideas or constructive criticism is appreciated.  
> Winter-storm


	9. When You Are Tiered of Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the rain chases a young photographer into a bookstore owned by a man with the most entrenching green eyes he's ever seen will he capture not only the man's image, but his heart as well.
> 
> This is an angsty piece of . . . I’m not even sure what this is. I’m not sure where the idea came from, but I needed to get it out of my system before I could write more happy fluffy stories so here it is my sad attempt at angst and feels.  
> M  
> USUK and FrUK (sort of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I want to say that I am sorry for any Francis bashing that happens in this one. I actually don’t hate Francis or FRUK. I actually like the pairing when it is done well I’m just not any good at writing it myself. It just so happens that in this one Francis is the perfect scapegoat for what needed to happen story wise so please don’t flame me for making him the bad guy it is a plot device not a reflection on the actual character.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter has reference to an abusive relationship. It does not support that sort of relationship, but it is an important part of the story so it is required. I apologize for the fact that I had to include it, but it couldn't really be avoided.

“Why didn’t you wait?” The young man asked.

“You took too long” The older man answered with tear stained cheeks.

“But I’m here now” The boy with the too blue eyes and wheat blonde hair said tilting the older blonde’s chin. 

“Now doesn’t much matter.” The older said one solitary tear leaking from his left eye that had swollen shut and was turning a repulsive shade of purple with every passing minute.

~~~5 Years Earlier~~~

Arthur couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He was about to marry the love of his life Francis Bonnefoy. He had to be the luckiest man alive. How someone like Francis had ever chosen him was baffling but it didn’t matter. He and Francis were going to be married and they would be the happiest couple in the world. Francis would be a wonderful husband and father. 

They were in love and they always would be. Arthur was sure of it. This was the happiest day of his life and nothing would ever top this. He couldn’t stop smiling and he had no reason too. His life was absolutely perfect. In less than an hour he would be a married man and that would be his happily ever after. 

Francis had never been 100% faithful, but that would all change once they were married. Arthur probably would have agreed even if Francis hadn’t promised it would change. He was just so deliriously happy that Francis had even asked for his hand.

He had promise, and Arthur believed him. 

~~~4 Years Earlier~~~

It wasn’t the first time that Arthur had caught Francis with someone else, but it was the first time since they were married that it had happened.

Arthur really shouldn’t have been surprised. Francis had always been the type to look for greener pastures. Still at the end of the day it was him that Francis came home to. Francis assured him that he just wanted to remember what it was like being with a women and that is meant nothing. 

It seemed perfectly logical. It was only the one time after all. If Arthur were as much of a sexual creature as Francis he would probably have a bit of trouble being 100% faithful as well. An open relationship wouldn’t be so bad really. He was happy as long as Francis came home. After a surprisingly short fight Francis promised it would never happen again.

He had promised, and Arthur believed him.

~~~3 Years Earlier~~~

It was the first time that Francis had ever hit him. It had been an accident. They were both drunk and angry. They had been fighting more lately. None of it really seemed to matter. Francis would go out drinking with his buddies and get home late. Arthur would work all day to come home to an empty house. 

They both did and said things that they didn’t mean. There were nights when Francis didn’t come home at all. Arthur knew he was with someone else, but after the first few times Arthur realized that was just something he would have to tolerate if he wanted to be me married to Francis Bonnefoy and he did still want to be married to him. It wasn’t so bad after all he could go out and meet other people as well right? Only unlike Francis he didn’t want to.

The next morning when Francis had seen the purple and blue bruise he had left on the right side of Arthur’s face he had cried. He apologized and promised it would never happen again. He spent the rest of the day pampering Arthur and repeating how very sorry he was and that is was an accident.

He had promised, and Arthur believed him.

~~~2 Years Earlier~~~

Arthur woke up to find a new bruise that he didn’t fully remember getting. It wasn’t that this was odd on it’s own he woke up fairly often to find a new injury of one kind or another. The odd thing about this was morning was that when he woke he was not in his bed at home or on the floor where Francis had left him but instead in a white bed in a white room with an IV in his arm. 

This must be a hospital room. He had never woken up in the hospital before. He didn’t feel sick just achy. He certainly hadn’t come here on his own. Did Francis bring him here last night? He must have there was no other reason to be in the hospital. What had happened? 

He recoiled when he caught his reflection in the mirror. His whole face was a mass of black and blue marks with one long cut over one thick eyebrow and another running from under his ear across his sharp cheekbone. It didn’t feel that bad really, but it did look ghastly. Usually Francis was a bit more discriminating about hitting him where others would be able to see the marks. He must have done something really awful last night. Why couldn’t he remember what it was that he had done to make Francis angry this time?

He turned his head away from the mirror to see the Frenchman walking through the door. He couldn’t help but cry a bit to see the man. He was afraid that he had done something so terribly that Francis had left him for good. It was a relief to see those sparkling blue eyes. Francis told him how it was his fault that if he just did better Francis would never have to hit him again.

It was always Arthur’s fault of course, that is what Francis said, and Francis had to be right after all, Francis was perfect any everything good in the world. He had promised so much. He promised that it was Arthur that was the problem not him.

He had promised, and Arthur believed him.

~~~1 Year Ago~~~

Arthur woke to an empty apartment. He hadn’t expected Francis to be there after the fight they had the night before. It was normal to wake up alone after a fight. He felt an all too familiar twinge in his arm. He twisted it a bit experimentally. He would have to get it looked at after work. For the time being he would just wear the sling he had kept from the last time he sprained his arm. 

He walking into the small bookstore he worked in with Elizabetta and Gilbert. He was the first there but that was normal. He looked to see who was supposed to open with him that morning and was very glad to see that it was the cheerful Hungarian girl instead of the self-proclaimed awesome Prussian. He knew that Elizabetta would notice his slow movement and the sling he was wearing but unlike Gilbert she wouldn’t go on and on about how Francis needed a good smack down for it. After all Arthur loved Francis and he hadn’t done anything wrong. Elizabetta would simply say that Arthur deserved better and then continue with the day. That was far preferable to Gilbert’s way of dealing with it whenever Arthur showed up with a new injury. 

He liked work though. He actually owned the store or at any rate Francis did. The lease on the building was in the Frenchman’s name, but he had bought it for Arthur so that the Brit would have something to spend his time on. Francis was actually a head of PR at some big business in the downtown part of the city. Arthur early in their relationship had complained about being slightly bored with nothing to do with his time. This bookstore was the result. Francis bought the building and told Arthur to do with it whatever he liked. Francis hadn’t pain any attention to the building since then. Sometimes Arthur wished that his husband would take more of an interest in his store, but there were plenty of other things for Francis to think about so it hardly bothered him most of the time. 

He was shook from his thoughts when he heard the bell over the door signal the arrival of another person. When he looked up it turned out to Elizabetta. He greeted her as jovially as he could considering his arm was sprained. Elizabetta did her best to smile back at him but couldn’t manage a full one noticing that sling he wore. “You really should be more careful Arthur.” She said not daring to elaborate on how or what he should do to be more carefully fully aware that he wouldn’t hear a word against that womanizing French bastard. 

Arthur laughed in a tight sort of manner. “Silly me I sprained my arm again. I’m so clumsy you know.” They both knew it was a lie, but it was much easier to talk about it as if it were the truth. If it had been the truth he would have been the clumsiest person ever. 

The morning passed in a rather uneventful manner. Drink some tea, sell some books, read a few ARCs, chat with Elizabetta, and repeat. That was what his daily life boiled down to. It wasn’t terribly exciting, but he liked it just fine. He would rather know what to expect from his day after all his passionate spouse kept his nights very hard to predict. 

The skies opened up in the early afternoon releasing a complete downpour. It always seemed to rain on the worst days. He wouldn’t want to go to the hospital after work not in this. Maybe he would just go home. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what a sprained wrist felt like. To his relief seeing the rain Elizabetta offered to make the short journey to the café a few blocks away and pick up lunch for the both of them. Arthur thanked her and gave her the money to pay for her lunch as well since it seemed the proper thing to do. He was fairly sure she would find someway to slip the money back to him later that day, but it was the principle of the gesture not the outcome. 

Shortly after Elizabetta left the bell over the door gave an almost violent clang. Arthur looked up startled to see a drenched young man run in. He was going to ruin the polished wood floor dripping all over the place like that. Hard wood flooring was expensive, but it was also terribly susceptible to damage. Arthur must have made some noise of protest to the water covering his beautiful flooring since the new arrival looked up. “Sorry dude. Didn’t mean to ruin the floors or barge in here, but it really started pourin’ out there.” The accent was unmistakable. He was American of course. 

As Arthur finally raised his eyes from the book he was reading he realized another thing about the intruder. It was true that he was loud and obnoxious, but he was also far too handsome for his own good, in a geeky kind of way. This was not good. That blonde hair those blue eyes. He had always had a weakness for blonde hair and blues eyes. The truly awful thing though was the way the boy was looking at him. His eyes were wide and his mouth was opening in a perfect o of shock. “Wow dude you have the most amazing green eyes I’ve ever seen.” This had stopped the protest about the state of his floor before it had even left his lips. He was brought back to reality by the snap of a shutter and bright light of a camera flash. 

“Hey what do you think you are doing?” He asked blinking to make the small lights floating around in his vision disappear. 

The American just laughed. His smile was blinding just like the flash of his camera. “Whoa you are English too? That is awesome. Love the accent man.” Now the man sounded like Gilbert using that stupid word with so many words in the English language there had to be a better word to describe his thoughts about Arthur’s nationality. 

“I’m British actually not that it makes that much difference to that fact that you have now ruined my nice wood floors with your dripping, gaped at me in a rather rude fashion and taken my picture without even asking for permission first.” That was more like Arthur’s normal reaction. He had been a bit flustered at the man’s good looks and unexpected compliment, but that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a scolding for his behavior any less.

The boy, at least he looked young enough to be a boy, had the presence of mind to look mildly contrite. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly pink in embarrassment. “I really am sorry dude about the floor and well everything, but I’ve just never seen eyes like that and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity. I’m a photographer you see.” He said holding up his rather professional looking camera. “Alfred F. Jones.” He said extending his hand. 

Arthur sighed lifting his hand a bit so the boy could see the sling a clear sign that he would rather not have to shake hands since it would move his sprained arm in a rather unappreciated way. “Arthur Kirkland.” He said all the same. He wondered why he even told the boy his name since it wasn’t like they would ever see each other again. Still it was gentlemanly to respond in kind when someone introduced themselves. 

The boy must have a short attention span however since he was no longer looking at Arthur but had instead started to examine the store itself. “Hey can I come back here some time I think it would be a great back drop for some pictures.” He said looking through the viewfinder on his camera. “I would also love to take another picture of you some time when my camera isn’t likely suffering from water damage.” He said on a laugh. 

All Arthur could do was splutter for a moment. He didn’t really expect or want to see the American again, but it might be good publicity for the store. It would certainly add a bit of excitement to his otherwise mundane days. “Well I would expect some form of monitorial compensation, but I suppose it could be arranged.” He said after a pause that really was much too long. 

The American seemed not to realize it had taken the petite man longer than necessary to respond. “Great dude. I guess I’ll see you around than.” He said with a flashing smile. He looked back at Arthur for a moment. His gaze had feeling in it. It made Arthur feel as if to this boy, this stranger he was the most amazing thing in the world. “Your eyes really are miraculous.” He said before leaving the store.

It wasn’t until Elizabetta returned the Arthur noticed the rain had stopped. He was in a daze for the rest of the day. The haze feeling in his head continued even after he had returned home that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way the boy had looked at him. Francis promised to love him forever, but Francis had never looked at him like that. For this first time Arthur realized that he probably shouldn’t have believed the things that Francis promised him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer than most of my opening chapters but I wanted to get enough of get the footwork done so as to be able to continue at a good pace if I do continue this work. I am not fully sure how this would continue from here, but I know that it would be the story of how a chance encounter during a rainstorm changes Arthur's life forever.


	10. Ask A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is Alfred to do when he can't figure out how to ask out the guy his is crushing on? Ask the advice columnist fro the school paper what to do of course.  
> (High school AU)  
> (PG-13)

ASK A

 

Originally it had been just like any other ask column in any other school paper. People would send in questions about having trouble with their homework or being bullied. The column even got some questions sent in specifically to stump the columnist, but those never worked. On a slow week they would be sent in with all the other answers though just in case the actual helpful replies weren’t interesting enough. Despite only a few of the answers ever being published the mysterious A was well known to send a reply to every single person who asked a question. Who ever this A was they must be a very diligent person. However much attention the replies got though it was nothing compared to the gossip about whom A was. Not even Feliciano, Ludwig, and Kiku knew the identity of the advice columnist, but every week when it came time for a new addition of the paper to be printed there would be a stack of neatly written notes in a tray simply labeled A for the editors to go through. 

A had been the name of the advice columnist as long as anyone could remember so everyone knew two things. The first thing everyone knew was that is was a pen name and probably had nothing to do with the person current writing the column at all. The second thing was that is must have changed hands several times over the years since it couldn’t possibly be the same person. No one but the mysterious A could have told you how they inherited the job though. It was all very secret and that is of course why there were so many rumors surrounding it. 

It happened gradually, but recently the letters piling up in A’s mail were more and more about advice on relationships. That wasn’t the kind of advice the column was usually used for, but it seemed that a few of the more personal replies sent more privately had a new rumor going around about the writer. Whoever A was, was a genius when it came to relationships. Before long the questions about school as a whole stopped all together and Ask A was no longer just an advice column is was specifically a relationship advice column. The love guru of the entire school was a person that no one even knew but they didn’t need to know who A was they just needed to know that when things went wrong A had the answer and everyone was aware of that. The more well known the advice column got the more letters piled up in A’s box. Sooner or later someone had to figure out who this genius was right?

~~~~~~~~~ 

“Arthur?” The blonde stirred from where he had fallen asleep with his head on top of his desk. He wasn’t sure how long he had actually been asleep but it must have been quite a few hours since it was now morning and time for school. He would have liked if someone had the decency to wake him up last night and tell him to sleep in his bed like any normal teenage would have done, but he knew that his siblings didn’t care enough to bother if he had a crick in his neck all day they would probably think it was funny if he walked around all day with his head tilted to one side. Oh well just another reason for people to think he was odd. It was nothing new after all.

Arthur was currently sixteen and a junior in high school. He was one of the younger kids in his class, but that never bothered him since he was also probably one of if not THE most mature student in the entire school. That was his opinion at least. It was well known at this point that whatever else Arthur might be he was an over achiever. Arthur was secretary on the student council, a shoe in for the president position next year, was on the honor role, a member of many clubs including magic, poetry, and cooking though no one was sure why he was a member of cooking club when he couldn’t cook. He spent most of his free time in the library reading or in the computer lab writing, though he didn’t have much free time to speak of with all his extra circulars. There was one particular area where Arthur seemed completely unmotivated however. Arthur had no interest in sports at all. He fallowed football, but that was European football and he had spent most of his childhood in England so of course he we invested in football, but only on the professional level and it wasn’t as if he had any dreams of PLAYING professional football he just liked to watch it. 

There was one more extra circular that Arthur spent a lot of time on. He spent much more time on it than he cared to admit really. When he had agreed to do it he never imagined that it would be so time consuming, but it wasn’t like he could just stop now. After all if he stopped who would answer all of the questions sent into the school paper? If he wasn’t A who would be?

It had started back when he was a freshman. When he started high school the famous A had been a very nosy girl named Elizabeta Hédeváry who loved to meddle in everything. Arthur really shouldn’t have been surprised to find out that she was the advice columnist considering her tendency to try and ‘help’ even the people who didn’t ask for it. What Arthur was surprised about was when she had approached him about the column. He didn’t think of himself as the helpful type really. He was the type that paid close attention though. He had a tendency to notice things that other people didn’t and had a good eye for details that might help people avoid unwanted situations. Elizabeta had noticed this and she had to pass on the name that year anyway as she was set to graduate. To no one’s surprise more than his own Arthur soon found himself seated in front on a computer with a full inbox of letters addressed to A. After a test run where Elizabeta insisted on reading over all of his replies he was approved. 

“Arthur?!” He had completely spaced out. He looked at the clock. He was late. Well he usually got away with small things like being late for first period it was one of the good things about being on the student council and a good student. Teachers were more willing to cut you some slack if you were a student like him, the type that actually wanted and liked to learn. He threw on the first clean cloths he found. Unfortunately the first cloths he found were not appropriate fro school. He huffed and pulled off the tight black jeans and black muscle shirt. Why did he still even have those? Oh well. H dug in his closet coming out with a pair of dark brown corduroy pants and an only slightly wrinkled button down shirt in a pail grey and grey paisley pattern. It was a little flashier than he liked to go, but he didn’t have the time to think about that right now.

“Arthur honey I have to go to work now but Alistair is going to take you to school dear.” NO! No way was he going to let his jerk of an older brother drive him to school. That was the very reason he usually woke up early and if he had fallen asleep in bed where his alarm clock would have done it’s job of waking me up then he wouldn’t now be late facing the option of five minutes in the car with Alistair or fifteen minutes running in the chilly October morning. No contest he would take the running over Alistair every time. 

“It’s ok mom Alistair doesn’t have to wait for me I’m just going to run I need the exercise and I have a council meeting first thing so I won’t get in trouble.” He called down. He heard the door open and close twice in quick succession, which he assumed were his mom and his older brother Alistair leaving. Arthur couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief. He always preferred the house when he was the only one there. He loved his family of course, but . . . he just didn’t like having them around all the time. 

Now that he knew no one was waiting for him Arthur felt a bit better about just taking his time. It was true that he had a student council meeting first thing that day after all. True that as secretary he should be there taking notes on everything, but it wasn’t like one of the others couldn’t fill him in besides with Francis as president it wasn’t like much of anything really got done at those meetings. 

Five minute later Arthur was packed and leaving his house. He would have to skip breakfast if he didn’t want to be too late, but it wasn’t a big deal he usually only had a cup of tea and a piece of toast for breakfast anyway. He wasn’t in the best mood without his morning tea, but that couldn’t be helped. He was about to get going when he saw a thermos sitting on the table they kept by the door usually reserved for things like keys and the mail. Curious he picked it up and unscrewed to top. The delectable smell of English morning breakfast tea radiated up to his nose. “Thank you mom.” He whispered screwing the top back onto the thermos. He grabbed the thermos and opened the door the cool October air making him even more excited about the warm tea his mother had left for him. 

He took a deep breath as he stepped into the decidedly nippy autumn breeze. He zipped up his jacket and wrapped the scarf firmly around his neck for the trek to school. Despite the weather he decided that it was still better than riding to school with Alistair. As he trudged along the sidewalk school getting progressively closer his mind drifted back to the letter he had fallen asleep trying to answer last night. 

 

Dear A,  
I think I might be in love with one of my best friends. I know that the smart thing to do would be to just man up and tell the guy how I feel, but well that’s the whole problem isn’t it. I’m a guy and he’s a guy and . . . well you get what I mean right? It isn’t that I’m homophobic or that I think there is anything wrong with being gay. The fact is that I don’t know if he is gay. That isn’t the point I mean I’m not a shy sort of person even if I can be a dork sometimes and eventually I’m sure that I’ll just blurt it out in the most unromantic way possible the thing is that. I don’t know if I’M gay. I’ve never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend for that matter so how do I know? I’m sure it is different for everyone, but I guess I just might feel a little better if there were some way to check if the love I feel for this friend is romantic, or platonic.   
Thanks,   
Jockhead  
P.S. I think this friend may not even think of me as a friend. I think I kind of annoy him, but that is my problem not yours right ;)

 

The whole letter had sort of thrown Arthur off. He got questions about love confessions all the time. He could usually figure out who sent the letter and who their crush was too, but this was different. All he knew about the sender this time was that he was a jock. Almost the entire school was on one sports team or another so that didn’t exactly narrow down the possibilities. True Arthur wasn’t on any sport teams, but that was him, and this had nothing to do with him other than the fact that he had to find some way to answer the poor blokes question. It should have been simple really. Most people just sort of knew. That wouldn’t be terribly supportive to point out though. He had spent all night thinking about it and all he had come up with was to tell the boy he would just have to experiment. Now if he had ever actually had a romantic relationship that would have been an easy enough thing to do but it seemed this ‘jockhead,’ as he had called himself, had a problem actually asking people out. If only the boy had asked about asking someone out. Arthur could have helped with THAT.

He was still thinking about how to answer the letter when he reached school. “Hey Dude!” He heard a distinctly American voice call as none other than Alfred F. Jones jogged up behind him. “You are here late Artie aren’t you like always early?” Alfred asked with a loud laugh slapping the slighter man on the back heartily. 

“I was up late doing school work and rather than ride to school with my brother I decided to get some exercise not that it is any of your business Alfred.” He replied brushing himself off from the over enthusiastic American’s greeting. Did he really have to be so physical ALL the time? The greeting would have been just as effective and gotten the same response if Alfred hadn’t slapped the breath out of him for no good reason. “Now please leave me alone Alfred I have a student council meeting I’m already late for thank you.” The shorter blonde rushed inside before Alfred had the chance to stop him. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Alfred checking you e-mail every two minutes isn’t going to get you a reply any faster.” Alfred’s twin brother Mathew hissed as he sat trying to study during their shared first period free track. His twin’s fidgeting was very distracting to his twin. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to Alfred fidgeting of slacking off, but this was restless even for Alfred. 

“I know Mattie, but God I saw Arthur this morning and he looked so cute and all flushed from the cold and exercise I could have hugged him.” Alfred said opening up his phone to check his e-mail again. “If I don’t get an answer pretty soon I might just burst. I really want to do this right though sweep him off his feet all romantic like.” He said.

“If that was your goal Al then you should have asked what the best most romantic way to ask a guy out was not how do I know if I’m gay.” The more reserved blonde said. He shook his head a bit. “You could have just asked me that.” Alfred had actually asked his brother and Mathew had been less than helpful in the jocks opinion. 

“I did ask you!” Alfred bit back. “You told me to figure it out for myself.” Alfred said whacking his twin with his unopened notebook.

“Asking the advice columnist for the school paper is not what I had in mind when I told you to figure it out for yourself Al.” Mathew said dodging enough to only get clipped by the edge of the notebook. 

“I know, but when ever I read the ask A column well . . . A just seems really good at this stuff and well Arthur is too important for me to mess it up.” He said. 

Mathew couldn’t help but sigh a bit at his brother. “Arthur is right you ARE an idiot.” Matt had to admit that though his brother was an idiot he was kind of a lovable idiot. He really hoped his brother would just pluck up the courage to ask Arthur out already though. Another month or so of listening to Alfred’s daydreaming sighs and Mathew might just tell the Brit himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got away from me a little so it is on the longer side, but the other option was to have it be shorter than normal. This will mostly be Arthur coaching Alfred through how to woo him without even knowing it. Each chapter would contain another letter sent to the mysterious A.
> 
> As always please let me low if you are interested in see where this would go.


End file.
